Everyone was fascinated by him. It wasn’t a big mystery why. He was tall, good-looking and kept to himself, all qualities a newcomer needed to be the center of attention. He appeared without any fanfare, just showed up at school and that was then the rumors began to ignite.

            It was because he wouldn’t talk to anyone. It was because he was so clearly a foreigner that piqued everyone’s interests. Even I was slightly fascinated with him. But it was because he looked like one of the saddest people I’ve met and there was nothing exciting about that.

            I sat on the park bench and tried to avoid the gossiping crowd. Less than three periods had gone by in the day and already stories had been invented. He was the son of a Chinese mafia boss. He was a refugee, hiding from the law. He was rich and he was expelled from his previous school because he had had a horrid, passionate affair with his teacher. Then there was my personal favorite. He was sent here to look for a wife.

            I knew he was attractive. I saw glimpses of him from between the hordes. He was tall enough that he easily towered over the simpering females who followed him. I saw his bow-shaped mouth and his dark eyes. He died his hair; not uncommon but so very rebellious on him. It was a becoming golden shade.

            His clothes were simple, and yet he wore them like someone who knew fashion. But I had seen the tightening around his mouth, seen the troubled eyes and knew that fashion was something he could care less about. I felt bad for him. He seemed to want privacy, but everywhere he went, he had a gaggle of gossips waiting.

            I took out my sketchbook and began to draw. It took me a minute to recognize the fierce eyes, the cupid’s bow’s mouth and the straight nose that appeared. Without thinking, I continued to flesh out the angular face and the intense eyebrows. I wish I had colored pencils with me. Black graphite didn’t do his hair justice. I stopped at his neck. I didn’t see him too much to know what he was really wearing.

            It didn’t bother me that I had only drawn his head. It had managed to fill up the entire blank space and his eyes were still there. His eyes were his best feature, I decided. They were a force to be reckoned with.

            I closed my sketchbook and stood up. The bell was about to ring. I didn’t want to be late.

***

            It was calculus that I finally had a class with the newcomer. By now, there has been so many versions of his name, I couldn’t tell which was the right one. Someone had whispered that he went by his Chinese name, Wu Yi Fan, others had mentioned a Kevin, a Kris, and still nobody knew why he would show up here on a chilly October day.

            He sloped into the door, and almost as if out of habit, bent so as to not hit the door frame. He was tall, but our doors were taller here and so that was unnecessary. He was skinny and had a red string encircling his narrow wrist. He wore our uniform effortlessly, with flair. His hair was perfectly styled, and yet he looked as if he could care less.

            There was an immediate buzz. The teacher beckoned him to the front of the room and he almost seemed to sigh, and think, “Not again.” But he complied. He stood, rigid, in front of the whiteboard and looked uncomfortable. Everyone fell silent as they all leaned forward to hear him speak.

            I was interested but out of politeness, kept my gaze slightly off to his side. He wasn’t a zoo exhibit to be gawked at. “Hi, I’m Kris.” That was it. He started walking up the steps to rows of seats. Girls immediately moved their bags to make way and some guys shuffled awkwardly. He kept walking.

            He slid into the seat at the very back and plunked his book bag on the table. He leaned back and crossed his ankles, and waited patiently. Everyone’s necks craned to see him. I could see the disappointment on their faces. How could they observe him now when he was all the way in the back, out of their line of vision? Even the teacher looked dismayed. The new kid shouldn’t be in the back; where all the class clowns went.

            I kept my focus in the front and only stole a glance at him when the bell rang. He stood up gracefully and packed away his notebook. His fingers had a tiny ink stain and it felt good to know that he was human, that he made mistakes too. Kris walked down the side steps and left through the back door. I bowed my head and went on with my life.

            I forgot my schedule and had to hurry back. By the time I rushed into my next class, I realized that it was already full. It was a seminar class; the one class where it was a first come first serve for a seat. All the seats were filled. Except for the one next to Kris.

            Well, it must be my lucky day, I mused. I not only had two classes with the elusive new student, but today I had the fortune of sitting next to him. When I brushed past him, he moved his leg away almost as if human contact burned him. It was history class and I could see that he had already written down his heading.

            I wrinkled my nose. His handwriting wasn’t exactly great. Another block that tipped him back towards being human. Walking down the corridors, I’ve heard people compare him to almost an angel. But no angel would ever write this poorly. He was twirling his pen between his fingers, twirling so fast. The teacher was talking about the history between China and Korea. When he mentioned a general, Kris dropped his pen.

            It rolled over next to my foot and I saw him withdraw. He had leaned down to pick it up but now seemed to have lost all desire to. I bent down and picked it up for him. I placed it next to his notebook and heard a deep murmur of thanks. I nodded and he went back to twirling his pen.

            “Now this General is now infamous for having stolen a significant amount of money from the Korean treasury,” the teacher continued.

            The words were out before I realized it was he who said it. “That’s a complete lie.”

            The teacher turned to Kris. “And you are?”

            “Kris Wu,” he replied. “Sir, the General was actually one of the few who wanted to return the gold. If anything, it was his son who was after the money.”

            “And how would you know?”

            A shadow flitted across his face and Kris closed his mouth. He almost seemed to look as if he regretted speaking so much. He closed his eyes. “Never mind, sir.” But the teacher was intrigued and asked Kris to stay after class.

            I looked at him curiously. Why had he spoken with such authority, only to stop himself halfway? But I didn’t want to pry. He already had enough people wanting to know about him. I stayed away from him. It was better not to make him upset.

            When the bell once more ended, I stood up and packed my things away. By the time I looked up, Kris was gone.